


Experimentation

by StarsandSapphires



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: "what if Runner Five got captured" scenario, Captivity, F/M, Heavy Angst, Horror, No Spoilers, but borderline noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:32:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsandSapphires/pseuds/StarsandSapphires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even Runner Five has a breaking point - it may only take a few tests to discover what that point is. And Professor Van Ark is more than willing to perform the experimentation.</p><p>Minor S2M28 spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Experimentation

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to dedicate this to iPod playing inappropriate music in the vicinity of Van Ark.

She screams.

She screams until her voice goes hoarse and her throat burns and the world goes dizzy around her. Still she screams.

No one comes for her.

She only stops screaming when she tastes blood in her throat.

* * *

Runner Five is not sure how or when she fell asleep.

She notices the shattered pieces of her headset on the cold floor. A memory – Van Ark, snapping the equipment before her eyes and casually tossing it to the side as if it _wasn’t_ her lifeline.

It takes a moment for Runner Five to heave herself off the bed, her legs being tied together and all. Muscles aching, she crawls over to reach it.

She knows it is broken. But she can’t help but hold it against her cheek, whispering into it, telling them that she was okay, but that she needed help, she didn’t know how to escape.

* * *

They bring her food today. Runner Five can’t remember if that had been doing that the past few – _days? weeks?_ – or not

She eats, and feels better. Her memory sharpens, and she recalls that she had been refusing to eat anything they had brought for her. That would explain it.

She wonders when Van Ark is going to show up.

* * *

Professor Van Ark sits quietly in a chair when she awakes from a nightmarish sleep.

“Good morning, Runner Five.”

His smooth voice sends shivers down her spine. She doesn’t acknowledge him except settling back fixedly into her bed.

“I hope that you haven’t had too horrible a time here. I’ve attempted to provide you with anything you might need. Any hardships you have had are of your own making.”

She firmly keeps her mouth shut.

“I see we are going to have some trouble getting words out of you. No fear. We’ll get you to _open up_ eventually.”

The chair scrapes as he gets up: his clothes rustle as he takes a few steps. But after that, there was nothing at all. Absolute silence.

Her breath catches in her throat, but she refuses to look up. She had a sudden, wild fear that Van Ark was about to pounce on her, like an animal – or _zombie_. Adrenaline pumps through her body and goosebumps prickle over her skin.

But then the door opened and closed, leaving Runner Five alone in quiet.

* * *

He invites her to dinner.

She would have refused the kindness if nor for the guards, who seized her up from the bed, bound her hands, and forced her down the hallway.

She was released from her bonds in his presence, in a small room consisting of a small table, a desk. She stares at the edge of the brown table, filled with food.

Van Ark, who sits across from her, twirls the fork in his fingers.

“I thought you might desire some company.”

She glares down at the empty plate in front of her.

“I am not an impatient person, Runner Five. If you think your silence will cease my efforts, you may want to rethink your tactics.”

That wasn’t going to stop her from trying.

“And not an unjust immortal, either. The more you tell me, the more you can eat.”

Runner Five says nothing.

Runner Five doesn’t eat today.

* * *

The guards bring her back to Van Ark’s room, and the oak table is set just as it had been the night before; laden with a rainbow of fruit and nourishment. The guards meticulously tie her hands back to the chair and depart, leaving the Runner alone with the Professor, who was cutting out a piece of steak for himself.

“Runner Five. You have an air of being reasonable about you. I don’t see why we can’t talk like adults.”

She notices a bit more now; the rich color of red tapestries on the walls, the flickering shadows thrown by candlelight, dancing along the backdrop of the otherwise blank wall.

“I know that todderlike stoicism is your attempt at trying to aggravate me.” He sets his utensils down with a soft clang, and he turns his deep eyes on her. “Well, that doesn’t matter now. _I_ can do the talking.”

A glance back in his direction made her toes curl and her stomach jump, and she determinedly looks away again.

“Let’s lay the cards on the table, Runner. I believe that you have something that I want. And I believe that I have something you want.”

Her gaze still fixed on the wall, Runner Five raises an eyebrow.

“My goodness.” He sighs. “Essentially _immortality_.”

When she doesn’t visibly respond, Van Ark leans forward, his strong hands on the table, his voice pure velvet. “Really?” He mused. “You’ve _never_ entertained the thought of being immortal? A desire of conquering death?”

He leans back in his chair and closes his eyes, savoring his train of thought. There’s something mesmerizing about his delight in his own twistedness. “You never having to face the unknown. Never have to cross your fingers while living that there is some merciful god in the afterlife who will save you. Instead, _we_ become the gods. The constant. The eternal. You never will fade.”

He opens his eyes, and the intensity in his dark eyes forces her to looks at the floor.

The rhythm of his continued speech was hypnotic. “We’ve done it. I am unbeatable. _I can’t die_. And you have the potential to gain all that I have as well.”

He languidly stands, and Runner Five’s heart starts pumping wildly. _Oh god, not the zombie virus. You can’t infect me, not now, oh god._

“Don’t let a foolish consistency cloud the way of progress, Runner Five.” He whispers. He’s right beside her. She feels the electrifying brush of his fingers along her jaw. He relishes in the feeling of her too-fast breaths against his hand for a moment, but then applies pressure, tilting her head upwards to face him.

“I wonder at the source of your loyalty in any sense.” The grip of his hand tightens on her jaw. “It’s not as if they cared enough to come and find you. They’ve left you _perfectly_ in my mercy.”

The blood rushing in her ears is deafening as he gazes down at her. The pause is too long, galloping heart keeping pace of the seconds.

“Of course, Abel won’t be staying like that long.” He opens his hand, releasing her and crossing back to his own chair. “Our attack on them is moving forward shortly.”

Weak in the knees, gasping in air – she hadn’t even realized she had been holding it – she stares down at her empty plate and swallows the silence.

Runner Five says nothing.

Runner Five doesn’t eat today.

* * *

The next day that he comes, he visits her in her own confinement. She props herself up on her bed and offers him nothing but a stony expression. She might had attacked him if her legs weren’t bound.

“Wouldn’t you like to know how Abel Township is doing?” He muses after a period of silence, apparently unable to take his eyes off her. His staring made her skin crawl. “Surely it must burn you to the core, wondering why they haven’t come for you.” He sighs. “Well, I’m sorry to have to inform you that most of them have joined in the ranks of my undead.”

Her fists tighten under the covers. _You’re lying._

“Not all of them, of course. The Major was called away. A few Runners were out – most likely they’ve joined New Canton in the spirit of your silly _Fraternal Alliance_. And Doctor Myers is here, contained just as you are.”

If she could speak, she would have called his bluff.

“But everyone else… irrelevant casualties.”

He was trying out new tactics, that’s all. He was trying to figure out what it would take for her to cross over to his side. Well, he was going to have a very fruitless search. _I'm not going to betray them._

“But, I thought you might like to know some of the details. To mourn in your own way.” He rises, pacing, sauntering around the room.

She still makes no visible response, and so he continues.

“Thursday night, I believe. Everyone was sitting around, listening to two idiots blathering on the radio. As if there was nothing better to do in the middle of the greatest period of human history.”

Runner Five’s blood chilled.

_They did listen to Radio Abel together Thursday nights – curled about around the radio, whatever blankets they could find, Simon making jokes, Sara rolling her eyes, Jody knitting, Five snuggling up next to Sam –_

“We gave them the option of surrendering. No one in that room took up the offer. Fiercely loyal, the Runners seem to be. An admirable quality when used correctly; here, a pitiful stubbornness. You definitely... _fit in_ , Runner Five. Well, they didn’t die in vain. They were excellent test subjects. A little more dignified than perhaps they deserved. But I’m not one prone to waste.” His smile was poisonous. “Your other residents were not quite so fortunate. Sad, really.”

It was getting harder and harder to keep her heart from racing and her mind from believing him.

“We broke into the comms shack. It seemed that Ms. de Luca and Mr. Yao were attempting to barricade themselves inside. Janine – she was a valiant fighter, but she went down in the end. I like to think that’s how she would have wanted to die, defending her home. A futile but certainly valiant effort. _Sam_ , on the other hand – the poor operator’s face when we told him of how we tortured you. He might have offed _himself_ if we hadn’t put him out of his misery.” 

He pauses when she sees her face briefly spasm in pain.

“Don’t like to hear about your Sam, is that it?” He inquires, voice like silk. She takes a second to set her face back in stone, looks up, and sends him a burning glance. _Go to hell._

He refuses to drop her gaze, smirking, taunting her. The tension in the room becomes stifling. It's difficult to breathe.

She glances away first.

“I’ll leave you alone with your grief.”

He does.

* * *

He returns to her room again, interrupting her daily ritual of crawling over to the headset and whispering in to it.

_But really, she has to try – maybe if she twists the wires this way and puts them together like that – for a moment – maybe she can hear their voices –_

He starts upon seeing her.

“Are you trying to speak into the broken headset?” He snorts. “You won’t speak to someone who is actually before you and instead insist on babbling to an apparition?”

Without thinking, Runner Five makes a noise of disgust, continuing to twist at the broken cords.

“Well, well.”

_Well, damn._ She freezes.

“No words, but we’ve gotten noise out of you.” His voice is back to velvet. “I think we’ll get you talking yet.”

He gives her food that night. She doesn’t eat it.

* * *

“Tell me about you and this Sam Yao.”

Runner Five stares squarely down at her feet, tied separately this time to the chair. She got through all of the other tests; she could make it through this one.

“Please, don’t assume you have any secrets. If I knew Runners gathered to listen to Radio Cabel, then how would I have not known about the two of you?”

_If you knew, why would you be asking me? If they were dead, why would you be doing this?_ That was her spot of hope, her proof that they couldn’t be dead, the reason she kept fiddling with the headset.

He smirks. “He certainly had a soft spot for you in any case. But I’m certainly curious on how romance is handled in the apocalypse.”

_Laughs, tears, hugs, touches, kisses, silly pinky promises that shouldn’t have been made -_

“Did he bring you flowers? Call you his sweetheart, his love? Did he kiss you? Did you manage to get him into your bed? Or, was it too innocent for that?”

Runner Five bites down on the inside of her cheek. She can’t help it – she closes her eyes, muscles tensing.

“I bet you tried to take it slow. Keep your distance, as it should be. The operator is pretty fragile after all. How cute.”

_No, s_ he wanted to scream, defend Sam, but _the Night Run_ rose involuntarily to her mind.

“You wanted it, though, didn’t you?” His breathing was heavy. “But you were afraid.”

_Stop._

“Afraid that he was merely grateful at how you restored his flimsy sense of hope. Afraid of how unsatisfied you would be.”

Her eyes swivel around the room, eager to fixate on anything but his face. The guilt was crushing her chest.

“Inadequate boy.” The triumph was clear in his voice. “At least he died not knowing what you really thought about him.”

Runner Five closes her eyes, breathing through her tears in the irrational hope that Van Ark wouldn't see her crying. But, instinctively sensing she wasn't safe, she opens her eyes and finds him staring animally at her, hand hovering near her face. She freezes, heart deadening. Van Ark presses his palm gently against her cheek. He smeares a tear from her eye with his thumb.

Runner Five tries to turn away, but he cupped her face in both his hands and made her look him in the eye, at his predatory glint in them. A cold sweat swept over Runner Five's body, and she drew in a breath. The insistent pain of her injuries had disappeared under a fizzing tumult throughout her veins.

With one hand, Van Ark reaches up and unties Runner Five's ponytail. Buzzing fills Runner Five's head, and she shuts her eyes, hair falling forward: a thick, dirty curtain around her face. Her heart screams in panic. Van Ark's fingers dance down to her neck and feel out the tiny hollow of her collarbone.

 “Don't,” She begged. “Please don't.”

His hands move down to her chest.  Undefined anticipation was branching outward from his warm touch, spreading like cracks in marble.

"Oh god, don't touch me. Please.” Her voice cracks.

“It’s good to hear your voice again, Runner Five.” He withdraws his hands, face crinkled in a malicious victory. Five's heart began thumping in an odd way. She was acutely aware of the disarray of her hair. “It seems that we’ve found a way to make you talk.”

“I’m not telling you _anything_.” He had won, so there was no sense in trying to remain silent now. At least she could now unleash her words on him.

“Of course not.” He looks too hungry to be satiated with information now.

* * *

Of course he’s not satisfied.

He’s found exactly what he’s been searching for.

* * *

The next time, he _cuts_ the sports bra off. She supposed that was one way to keep her tied to the chair.

She watches, sickened as he made quick work of her shirt with a blade. Her Runner Five shirt – destroyed. Bra – gone. He was watching her with a sort of scientific fascination, carefully studying each new bit of abdomen revealed by the parting cloth.

Runner Five recoils from the freezing air. "Stop," she mumbles. The man looks up at her, smiling darkly from his kneeling position. She looks back down at him, heart pounding faster.

“So be it."

He leaves her like that, in astonishment, completely tied to the chair but topless, now, too. 

* * *

After a sleepless night, spent trying to doze while still tied to a chair, the morning comes. Five sits back, filled with dread for what was to come. She had an awful feeling that she knew where this was going, but the worst part is, she wouldn’t be saved. _Couldn’t, or wouldn’t?_

The door opens quickly and quietly, and Van Ark enters the room, locking it behind him. He crosses over to her, smirking lightly at the state he had left her in.

“What the hell do you want now?”

Van Ark doesn’t acknowledge her, only bends down in front of her.

It begins. He delicately traces the edges of her shoulders, then dropped, dragging his fingertips down and creating a tingling sensation. He reachs her breasts. "Stop," Runner Five mouths, but her voice was gone. Van Ark presses his fingertips into the soft flesh and caresses, rubs, strokes. He hums in interest.

“Stop.”

He drags his thumb across the soft flesh beneath her breast. She bites her bottom lip to keep from groaning. “Let’s have none of that. This feels good to you, Runner Five.”

“No, it _doesn’t_.”

“Your natural responses betray yourself.”

She looks away.

Her body strung tight as a bowstring, he changes variables. He cups her breast in one hand and squeezes gently as he places his lips on her soft, flat abdomen and kissed it. She shivers.

 “There’s no one around to know, Runner Five.”

“ _Stop_.” She crushes her eyes shut. Her legs involuntary squeeze together.

“Don’t worry. Your Sam will never know of your treacherous body.”

The voice evoked memories: _Sam offering to brush her hair, Sam throwing his arms around her after her hardest runs, him spending time together with her in the comms shack, his hand on the small of her back as they stood together, him comforting her, him kissing her with that crooked smile, a pinky promise to take things slow and normal._

“Stop it.” She forces out again, trembling. “ _Stop it."_

“It does you no good to resist.” Van Ark draws back with a smile, but obliges her.

* * *

Runner Five stops trying to talk into the headset.

* * *

He couldn’t wait. It was only midafternoon - or so she assumed, couldn't quite keep track of the hours - when he returned again.

“No.” She says weakly, muscles tensing. With her feet tied to the chair and arms bound, however, she was completely helpless.

He bends his head close to her and blew softly onto her chest. Goosebumps break out over her skin. Van Ark stoops lower, bringing his hands to her hips, and lightly kisses her stomach. Runner Five shudders.

“You know how to make it stop, Runner Five.” He points out yet again. “But you don’t _want_ it to stop, now, do you?”

She sets her face in stone.

“Let’s dispose of these, shall we?”

His face is very, very close as he unties what ties her feet to the chair, although her hands are still bound tightly together. He pulls her up to an awkward standing position, tied hands behind her back.

“And these as well.”

He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of her running shorts, tugging them down. She grits her teeth and steps out of them. He tosses them casually to the side.

“I know that you don’t want it to stop. You _like_ that you’re tied together so that you don’t have to fight me off. You can pretend to others, to yourself it was forced onto you. Like you didn’t want it.”

For the first and only time, he lowers his face to hers and violently crushes her lips beneath his dry ones, and her heart pounds fiercely--she wanted to push him away--she wanted to pull him closer and cling to him and feel his hard body pressing into her but _in any case how the hell did I end up making out with my enemy when I’m naked and he’s in a lab coat –_  When she knew that she was going to die, he draws away, heaving in air and pushing her against the bed, lowering her to it.

 “You've joined a dangerous game, Runner Five, and I'm not going to let you pretend otherwise.”

Slowly, he explores the contours of her body with his fingertips, with soft exhalations of warm, moist air, constantly attentive to every reaction of her body. _If only her arms weren’t crushed beneath her – my legs can’t –_ He slides a hand down her stomach until his fingertips scraped through the short, tight frizz of curls. Slowly, his fingers descend lower until he cups her mound and gave it a soft squeeze. She softly groans and starts to fruitlessly struggle.

He couldn’t make her bleed, couldn’t bite her. He couldn’t (at least shouldn't) kiss her. _But he could touch her._

“You know, Runner Five, I believe I understand.” He whispers against her neck, beard sratching at the delicate skin. “The only thing you can _really_ trust out here seems to be our own bodies. You can’t trust the people in charge of you."

_Janine -_ _Major -_ _Nadia -_ _Maxine -_ _Sam -_

The voices in your ear readily lie to you. But yourself – you alone protect your own body, and you can actually do something. You can  _run_.”

“Dear lord." She chokes out. "Enough with the monologuing.”

“Well, that’s the problem.” He continues, completely ignoring her. “We _can’t_ even trust our own bodies. Our bodies get stitches in our side when we most need to flee. Our bodies age and pass into the void. With a mere _scratch,_ our bodies turn into bloodthirsty corpses. And –” His hands brush the soft skin of her stomach, causing her to shiver. “Our bodies give ourselves over to people, maybe even our worst enemies.” She can hear the taunts in his voice, and her muscles tighten. “But I?” He changes tactics, whispering softly. “I have conquered my body. I have abolished suffering. I have conquered death. Wouldn’t you like to do that too, Runner?”

_No more suffering._

“You know exactly what it takes.”

Five inhales deeply to force out her words.

“I won’t betray my family. Fuck you.”

Van Ark’s smile disappears.

 “You’ll regret your decision.” He says coldly, chest heaving. “Mark my words, Runner Five.”

* * *

“Good morning, Runner Five.” Van Ark greets her, closing the door and striding towards her.

Well, for once, she knows what time it is. “You’re rather cheery today.”

“I’m not sure why you are not as well. When you are her, you don’t have anything to worry about. You don’t have to fake anything. You can just give in.” He wastes no time, sliding his hand up the back of her neck, beneath the heavy fall of her hair, and his fingers dug into her scalp with a sensual pressure that caused her to go limp; her head fell back into his hand. “That’s very freeing, I think, for you.”

“No. Stop it.”

He drew away from her and inhaled deeply. “It’ll be our little secret.”

“There’s no secret to tell.” Runner Five protested, even as he was pushing her backwards.

“No, I rather think you like this little situation we have.”

“I rather think you’re overvaluing yourself.”

He chuckled at that. The back of her knees hit the bed, and she sat down, his fingers still tangled in her hair. “Not me. I mean _h_ _ere._ You don’t have to worry about anything.” He whispered, dropping his roaming hands that left trails of fire across her quivering skin. “Look around you.”

She shut her eyes instead.

He slid his hands down between her thighs. “You are completely protected. Warm. _Safe_.”

She couldn't choke words out, but he forced her back on the mattress with gentle force, never removing his fingers, keeping a gentle but persistent pressure, until she was on her back, panting.

“I’m not safe from you.” She spat out viciously, before moaning aloud.

“I’m not the problem.” Van Ark panted heavily. “In fact, I’d say that I’m the solution. I’m providing you with food, protection, _satisfaction_.”

She gasped at the feelings of his hands, her hips jerking forward at the unwilling pleasure. “Satisfaction?” She yelped.

“Satisfaction.” Van Ark smirked, making her toes curl. “A lot more than your precious Sam could ever offer you, isn’t it?”

And with that, he dug two of his fingers inside of her, and her breath hitched, a gasp turning into a scream. Ignoring her angrily thrown curse, he continued his ministrations, breathing just as heavily as she was. Her cheeks grew pink and her body trembled from the warmth and _there it was and -_

And then her thighs were shaking, her hands taking fistfuls of the bed beneath her, she tremored, she quaked, and he was rewarded with choked gasps. Her entire body undulated against the bed underneath him. He simply stared with that pleased smirk and only after she calmed did he draw out his fingers between clamped together thighs.

She was making some sort of sound, even she couldn’t tell – angry whimpering? – as he dragged his moist fingers across her stomach.

“I warned you.”

Unwrapping himself from around her, he backed away and closed the door behind him, leaving Runner Five isolated in her own world of distress. She wouldn't open her eyes and couldn't keep from screaming. She was like a child left alone in bed and afraid of the dark. All she could do was tremble.

* * *

The second time is easier.

The third time is almost painless.

The fourth time, she doesn’t even scream.

* * *

It was ironic, really. She’s just a number in Abel, as replaceable as everyone else. They probably have already done so – _if they’re still alive_. But here: here, she was special, in a way. She wasn’t just _some number_. She was the enemy. She has a defining trait, for once in ths new life, and it’s not given by the people who she thought loved her.

Van Ark begins to be kinder. She is allowed clothes again – only dresses, however, which amuses him and makes it more difficult to run. Sometimes they talk before they begin, and discuss things that don’t pertain to him orchestrating the fall of the human race.

That changes in the bedroom. He becomes more violent with every passing encounter, more frustrated. _Abel still survives, doesn’t it_. She wonders. Days don’t even pass between them – hours, now.

Slapping, punching, kicking – all become standard, but he did it all with a calm expression, taking out tools out of his medical bag – only the rage reflected in his tightened eyes. In those moments, he was determined to make her cry – she was determined not to give him the satisfaction, even when he left and she was curled up in a ball, quivering.

Other times he would be uncharacteristically gentle, working lotions into her deep bruises, icing the aches, stepped back to observe his handwork. His eyes scanned her face and his piercing dark eyes chilled her to the bone. Five could feel every breath of his against her cheek. Every freckle, every eyelash, every detail of his face was burned into her mind. She couldn't tear her eyes off of him. She dared him to kiss her again. She dared him to make her whole.

And that’s when she thought she understood. He never intended for her to give up information at all. She wasn’t supposed to survive.

Perhaps like Arch, he had given up on her – but he wasn’t going to let her die first, without the humiliation. Without shame, fear, and guilt becoming of an enemy. With every passing day she was less useful to Abel. Every passaging day he further ruined a piece of equipment. 

He wins, in the end. One day they lay together – he as usually, still fully clothed and she laying on the bed, stoic again and aching. He had been stroking her skin, gently, almost caringly. The delicate patterns change, and she glances down in surprise.

He’s tracing the word _Sam_ on her bare thigh – Sam, Sarah, Janine, Archie – all of her friends and her family, those who deserted her and those she deserted in return. The ones who had been there in her darkest moments, who brought her back to the light, and the ones she had laughed with in the best moments, reveling in the memories. Her faith. Her _home_.

She closes her eyes, and the tears come.

“Well, well.”

He had gotten the tears he wanted.  Desolation overcame her: an unbearable, a vast emptiness. The void in her heart is overwhelming. She turned, burying her face against  Van Ark’s coat, her hands closing around the coarse cloth. He did nothing as she leaned on him as if he were a friend, as if he cared, as if he were someone who could ease this wasteland feeling. He puts an arm around her.

For once, he doesn’t leave. At once, she resolves that she needs to.

* * *

A deep ache in her shoulders brings her around. She was lying on her side, Van Ark nowhere to be found. She eases up, a variety of pains twinkling throughout—a cutting pressure in her wrists where the ties cut in, a sullen burn through her lower and middle back.

She couldn’t stay like this anymore.

She’d run to New Canton, if need be.

Runner Five stand up shakily but fell immediately over again, the room spinning violently around her. She swings for a moment, then settles into stillness. With every breath she takes, her brain functions a little better, her mind thinking a little clearer.

She traipses the room, picking up and putting on her running shorts. Unfortuantely – no shirt, and no bra. She curses as she looks the drawers, only filled with dresses. They’ll have to do. She chooses the one that’ll allow her to run the fastest, even if it is a garish yellow. _At least Simon would have approved._ She closes her eyes for a moment. _My friends._

Nothing else in the room is worth taking. Examining all corners, thoroughly, she begins to look for a way out. Wondering if she could use the doorknob, to break through the vent, she jiggles the cold metal for a moment.

She opens the door.

It... it wasn’t locked.

She stares at the knob for a long time.

_How long has it been unlocked?_

* * *

She makes it home. She always makes it home.

Of course, there was a home to go back to. Of course, all of her fears and excuses melt away to reveal starkly that Abel Township was there the whole time, completely unchanged in her absence, and she had nothing to justify her actions.

She might have gotten teased about sprinting in a dress all the way back to Abel Township if she didn’t look so _haunted_ coming through the gates. The other Runners were there to greet here – apparently their excited operator had spotted her on the cameras before her approach. They demand answers, fussing over her ruined clothes and messy hair. She silently yanks out of their touch, smacking their hands away with more force than she intended.

Sam had only just reached the bottom of the stairs when he sees Five sprinting in the opposite direction.

The medical exam takes longer than usual when, to the Doctor’s surprise, Runner Five refuses to strip down. It takes a lot of arguing in order to convince Five to take the dress off. She finally relents. There are deep bruises all over her body, but no broken skin. She tells a horrified Maxine that Van Ark tortured her, because it’s easier than telling the truth.

Runner Five’s cleared to go and speak to Janine about the incident, and she’s the only one to whom Five explains what really happened. Five thinks that she’s never seen Janine blanch so white.

“I’m sorry.” The older woman says, struggling for words.

Five dances her fingers along the edges of the cold table. _The apology will never make up for anything._

“I’m sorry, Runner Five. I really _am_. We tried very hard to locate you but – but there was no way we could –”

“It’s okay, Janine.” Runner Five interrupts, putting up a hand. The concern seems empty, even sickening. “What would you like me to do?”

There was a pause. “Do you still _want_ to be a runner?”

“Yes.” If there was _anything_ Five could be sure of, _it was that_. “But my clothes got –” _Cut up._ “Van Ark took them.”

The awkward revelation doesn’t faze Janine – at least, she’s good at hiding it. “We’ll get you a new runner’s shirt.” Janine soothes, even smiling slightly, as if the news is going to help Five. “One with long sleeves. And runner’s leggings. Until then, you can rest –” She drew up short. “Well, wherever you like. Your room is still available.”

Runner Five nods and departs. That’s the last Janine sees of her for a while.

Runner Five doesn’t eat tonight.

* * *

Sam knows something is wrong.

She’s sleeping in a different room.

On the other side of the township.

Which – which is fine, it’s _her room_ , after all. But - they haven’t slept apart since – since the blowup with Nadia, for Pete’s sake.

Talking to her that first time after she had gotten back was fine. She was exactly his Runner Five, if a little formal, as long as he was five feet away from her.

But when he had touched her? Slid his arms around her waist, kissing her forehead and reveling in the fact that she came home, and he never had doubted her?

Yeah, she turned into a weeping, quivering mess. And he rocketed back, terribly frightened, not understanding as she mumbled out an excuse and ran from the room. The shock lingered long after the slam of the door, as he sat in his chair, staring down at his hands, wondering what it was that he had done.

He was explicitly told by Janine that he wasn’t to ask Runner Five anything about her brief confinement under Van Ark. But - but he had thought he and Five had a greater _understanding_ between them.

He visits her room in the Runner’s Quarters with flowers, to try and make up for what it was that he did wrong.

She isn’t in her room, but the state of the place shocks him. Everything was in disarray, as if she had just thrown items to the ground. Except… for the dress she was wearing when she escaped Van Ark is on her dresser. Meticulously folded, right in the center, like she’s using it as a reminder or something.

_If she’s having nightmares again and I can’t even –_

Sam hesitates, and takes the dress, replacing it with the flowers.

* * *

She cries when she sees the wildflowers.

He’s taken the dress. She needs the dress. She needs the reminder. That she’s tainted. A reminder of why she _shouldn’t_ be accepting the flowers.

Runner Five hides the flowers in a drawer.

* * *

The nights are hard to bear.

She’s harassed by paranoia to the point of grief. She had never been afraid of the dark before, so why was she sweating and shaking now?

The morning after a particularly hellish nightmare – _Van Ark chains skin kiss burn NO STOP NO_ – She visits the doctor, breathing deeply and persuading herself that she can talk about it. She can.

Filled with dread, she walks up the stony stairs to Maxine’s office and almost rounds the corner, just as she hears raised voices. Blinking, she ducks into an empty room and listens.

“What happened to Runner Five is Runner Five’s business, Sam. You can stop asking, I’m not going to tell you.”

“ _Please_ , Maxine. I have to know what happened. I have to know if that’s why –” 

“Why _what_ , Sam?” The Doctor asks insistently.

“Why she won’t –" With a choke, the operator broke off. "Why she won’t let me _touch_ her.”

Each moment made her sicker, made her ache more with shame. She trembled inside of the room, and all of a sudden she hears a loud sniffle, and Maxine whispering: “It’s _okay_ , Sam.”

“I just _can’t_.” His voice is muffled. Runner Five guess that he’s clinging to Maxine’s embrace. “I can’t bear to see to her like this.”

“I know.” The Doctor whispers.

“I don’t know – I don’t know what it is I’m doing wrong.” His voice grows stronger, more frustrated now, and Maxine’s heels tap on the ground as she steps backward.

“Now, Sam. You aren’t doing anything wrong.”

There was a pause and several deep breaths: “It gets harder and harder to believe that.”

“Sam, I… _Sam_! You can’t run away from this!” Maxine calls out loudly, but his footsteps echo as he retreats from her, stalking down the hall, away, away. Five jumps at the bang of the door.

The pair – the doctor and the runner – both sit in silence for a moment. Finally, Five hears a frustrated sigh and a small click as Maxine goes back into her office.

Five decides not to intrude on the Doctor today.

* * *

 Maxine tells Janine that she needs to delay putting Five on active status for missions again, because the Runner isn’t eating enough.

Runner Five throws a fit. She needs the runs. She needs some semblance of normal. She needs to grind her body into the ground. Otherwise she is alone with her thoughts and she wants anything but that.

Janine is not convinced. Maxine is frightened by how violently angry Runner Five has become.

Five storms out of the farmhouse and hurries back to her room, trying to keep the tears contained. Once she is inside, she notices that on the desk is a meal, and a note from Sam. She puts the food in the drawer next to the wilting flowers. She throws the note away.

* * *

Janine makes a deal that if Runner Five begins to eat, then she can begin missions again as well. She tries harder.

She and Evan train every day at the track. Evan is silent. He doesn’t ask questions, which is a welcome change. Her time not at the track is with Maxine, who makes sure that Runner Five eats everything she’s supposed to. Apparently Five no longer even has freedom of what she does with her own body. _He_ never would have done this, she thinks bitterly, and then regrets the thought.

And then at night? She curls up on her bed and tries to train herself to sleep with her eyes open, because she can’t bear to see Van Ark’s smirk every time she closes them.

On the outside, it’s a suitable compromise. She buries her feelings and finds that she can fake smiles.

The day she is cleared for mission status, people celebrate. She does not. The Runners gather together and enthusiastically discuss their plans. A sad smile gracing her lips, Five leaves the moment the celebration starts.

She returns to her room with a small sigh, swinging open the door and yawning as she set her keys to the side. She made a movement to flick on the lights and freezes.

Sam’s sitting on her bed, in the dark.

He doesn’t look up at her, only stares down at his hands. Her breath catches in her throat, and, adrenaline pumping through her body, she wonders if it’s too late to run away from the encounter.

 “Runner Five.” He finally breathes, looking up.

His gaze is so earnest, it _hurts._

She manages a little twitch of her fingers that somewhat resembled a wave.

“Five.” He scoots over, and pats the spot beside him. “We need to talk.”

“We are talking.”

“ _Five_.”

She settles firmly back onto her bed, pursing her lips.

“Can I just –” He broke off, swallowed, and tried again. “Can I just know _what_ it was that I did wrong?”

The voice she knew so well was thick with raw emotion as he struggled to keep his calm composure. She shoved down memories playing emotional tag.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Sam.” She mumbled quietly, looking away. “ _I_ did.”

“No – you didn’t do anything either. I don't want you to blame yourself. That’s not what I meant.”

“Then _why_ are you here, Sam?” She was losing her patience.

“I -because I _care_ about you, dammit! And you _know_ that!” 

The words ring in the empty silence.

Sam settles his hands back into his lap, and turns sharply to face her.

 “But, I mean – all I want to do is _see_ you, _talk_ to you.” His voice is calmer now, but his shaking hands betray him. “But ever since you got back, all you do is run _away_ from me.”

He reaches out to put his hand on her cheek. The light brush of her fingertips ignite absolute fire in her skin. “No.” She pulls her head away, not even able to tolerate using her hand to push him away. “I’m _ruined_ , okay Sam? Tarnished. _Tainted_.”

“Because Van Ark hurt you?”

 She exhaled.

“He did in more ways than you think, Sam.” That’s as much of the truth as she can offer without it killing him.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not.” He reached out a hand again, and retracted it. The hand balled into a fist that he pressed against his own forehead. “I just wish that – that I was strong enough to protect you.” He whispered brokenly.

She viciously wiped away the tears from her eyes.

_It’s too late for that._

“Can I just – can I hold you?” He pleads softly, looking her up and down. “You used to like that when you were upset.”

_Used to._ He throws the words in her face as if she’s died already.

She clamps her mouth shut and shakes her head.

“Okay.” His face crumples, but he manages to stay composed as he pushes himself off of the bed and towards the door. “Okay.”

His stepping outside of the door nearly overwhelms them both. He pauses and looks back at her. “Well, I’m here. If you need me.” He gestures toward the headset she had placed on her side table. “Just call. I’ll be there.”

All it takes for him is a quick nod of her head, and he walks away.

* * *

 She needs him.

But she can’t bring herself to call.

Everything within her pleading to do the opposite, she snaps her own lifeline.

At night, they go to their respective bedrooms, saying nothing. Sam Yao drowns in his own inadequacy, and Runner Five screams in the silence.


End file.
